Beautiful
by Call-Me-Crazy.Cuz I Am
Summary: 'His hair is tousled and white-blond and his eyes are silver-gray. He wears hi shirt with the first three buttons undone and the blue-and-green tie around his neck is always loose. But even though he's popular and powerful, you soon realize he is just as screwed up as you.' {Rose and Scorpius and the challenges they face}


**A.N. Wouldn't leave me alone. DROP A REVIEW, PLEASE?**

Your name is Rose Weasley and all your life, you have been quirky.

You don't just dance to the beat of your own drum, you command your own freakin' jazz band, and you do it in style. And sure, James and Fred are funnier than you could ever hope to be and Molly, Dom, and Lucy are ten times sweeter than you at your best, and Teddy has better social skills and you can't even compare yourself to Vic and Al beats you on nearly every test and Hugo is the perfect son and Lily is the darling of the family, but you're Rose, and you like being different.

That's why you don't cry when the Sorting Hat calls out 'Slytherin' and you only feel a little abandoned when your father doesn't answer your letters for a month. After all, you don't care what others think; you live your life for you and you alone.

But the years pass and suddenly you find yourself caring. You stand in front of the mirror in the bathroom and dump gallons of Sleakeazy in your curly hair; you constantly fiddle with your clothes and you check what you say. You want so desperately to be liked and loved. But what you realize is that you are already liked and loved, for your last name. People see 'Weasley' and they automatically 'know' you. They adore you. They follow you around and laugh at your terrible jokes and give you a fake sense of acceptance.

They make you want to puke.

They toss fake compliments in your face until you want to cry. Because all your life, you've been quirky and cute and pretty and interesting and hilarious and adorable and a thousand other adjectives, but you have never been Rose. You've never been beautiful, not truly, not to anyone.

And then he comes along and changes every thing.

His hair is tousled and white-blond and his eyes are silver-gray. He always wears his shirt with the first three buttons undone and the blue and gold tie around his neck is always loose. You only truly begin to notice him in your seventh year, and then at first it's only because you're partners for Arithmancy.

But soon you realize that although he is popular and powerful and wanted by all, he is just as screwed as you.

See, he's quirky too, only his quirks show up in the sharp, angular pen strokes in his note margins and the way his eyebrows crinkle when he smiles. His quirks are in how he sits on his broom and how his lazy smiles warms everything it's directed at.

And he also doesn't care. Only, the difference is, he truly doesn't care. Whereas your jazz band has slowly become more and more mainstream, his is still alternative and original. He is still him, even though he lives in the same world you do.

You fall for him hard, and you can't even be bothered to deny it.

And your cousins hate him, even though he's a Ravenclaw and has never spoken more than ten words to any of them. His last name is enough to earn him distrust and anger and all of the things you have been shielded from.

Scorpius is a Malfoy, but he is the only person to ever call you truly beautiful.

And when you're laying in his bed and your hands are on his bare chest and he pulls away from your neck long enough to murmur_ 'beautiful'_, you, for the first time, believe it.

But of course, life can't be that perfect, not for you, Rosie dear.

And that morning, when you wake up in his arms, in his bed, with his hands running through your hair, you know in your heart it's the beginning of the end.

And James and Fred won't even look at you and Dom, Molly, and Lucy avoid you with a fervor and Vic's beautiful smiles are full of pity and Teddy's eyes are kind but his words still sting, and Al refuses to speak to you and Hugo is still the perfect son and Lily and Roxie laugh behind your back, but you have him and that's enough.

And then you make the terrible, terrible decision to bring him to the Burrow.

You rationalize it by saying that you are engaged, after all, and he needs to meet your parents, and Mum will be on your side, if nothing else.

But instead, the moment they see him it is like Voldemort has risen again in the form of Scorpius Malfoy.

He keeps his lazy smile the entire time, as he is mocked and mistreated and humiliated so terribly it makes your blood boil.

And finally, when you are seconds away from screaming at your father to pull the stick out of his arse and just be cordial, Scorpius speaks.

"Mr. Weasley, why don't you like me?"

Your father splutters and says some cheap crap about 'Malfoy' and 'evil' and 'You-Know-Who', and you get sick to your stomach because no one is standing up for him and your mum and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny are staring at him with clear anger in their eyes.

"That's funny," Scorpius tilts his head to the left. "If you replaced 'Malfoy' with 'Weasley' you would have almost the exact same answer my Grandad gave me when I asked why he hated Rose."

All talk stops.

"Mrs. Weasley, everyday, you go to work and fight against that sort of prejudice. You fight for Muggle-Borns and half-bloods, you fight to show that you are more than your blood."

As if on an unspoken command, your cousins rise as a whole and leave, and Vic grabs your arm and pulls you out with her as she leaves, but even once the door is shut you keep your ear pressed against it.

"I am more than my name." Scorpius said quietly. "I am more than my father's mistakes and my Grandad's sins and to judge me by them would be to commit the very sin you fought a war to prevent."

You can hear your father splutter.

"And I am going to marry your daughter, Mr. Weasley." There is a determined edge to Scorpius's light voice. "Nothing you say will prevent me from that."

And your father growls, low and dangerous, "She is mine. She is my daughter; she belongs to me."

And Scorpius actually laughs at this and says, "You really don't know her at all, do you? Rose belongs to no one but herself."

"Now, see here," Your Grandmum interjects. "We're Rose's family; we know what's best for her. And frankly, sir, you are not it."

There are murmurs of ascent.

"At least _I_ let Rose be Rose and don't try to suffocate her or wrap her in cellophane and put her on a shelf. Rose feels smothered by you, d'you know that? She feels like you never loved her, and she's never felt like that about me."

And then there is the sound of a body hitting wood and Auntie Fleur is screaming and Uncle George is cursing and your Mum is crying for your father. And suddenly, you forget to breath and you ram your weight into the door and barge in when it breaks.

Uncle Harry and Uncle Percy have your father by the arms and he's swearing and raging and in the corner, Scorpius's body lays crumpled and prostrate and blood drips from his head.

And you scream, loud and shrilly and all of your cousins come rushing in.

You run to him and with a growled 'Don't touch him!' you warn away all your relatives. You Apparate to St. Mungo's and when he is moved to a room and you are all alone, you begin to cry, because you don't want your life to be some reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with a beautiful romance and a tragic ending, you want it to be happy.

And when they finally let you see him, you clutch his hands and laugh through your tears when he says, "I think it went well."

You burn all the letters your mum sends you and you make sure they aren't invited to the wedding. You send them a single picture of Cassiopeia when she is born and another of Perseus and Nicodemus and Jessamine when they come along. And you beat to your own drum, only this time you're not alone. You have a husband with his untainted jazz band and you have four children who light up your world and you are truly happy.

And when you are old and gray, you clutch Scorpius's hand and blush when he calls you _beautiful_.


End file.
